


SuperBat Halloween Special

by PsychoticPerfection13



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Happy Halloween?, I Tried, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, SuperBat Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 18:25:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12612664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychoticPerfection13/pseuds/PsychoticPerfection13
Summary: Clark Kent has gone trick or treating every year since he was a kid, until two days before Halloween, his mother wants him to go out and make ‘friends.’ So, for minimal damage, he decides to go to a Halloween party hosted by his good friend.He’s just trying to make it through the night, and then someone randomly passes out on him.Well. That’s just fantastic.(I’m bad at summaries kms)





	SuperBat Halloween Special

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween? Let’s just pretend I actually got up off my lazy ass and finished this two days ago on time. 
> 
> I didn’t go over this much. All mistakes are completely mine, and feel free to point them out so I can cry and then fix them. 
> 
> Got a poll for you guys:  
> What do you want next?  
> • Stony Oneshot or Series  
> • Chapter 5 of Jealousy  
> Or • Clark x Bruce one shot  
> Let me know!!
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy my two day late fanfic.
> 
> -Lex <3

SuperBat Halloween Special

Clark had loved Halloween since he was a kid. He loved the decorations, the people coming together, the festivities that October brought with it, and most of all, the free candy. His house was always done up with homemade decorations, and his mother always made the best pumpkin pie in the neighborhood. He and his pa would sit out on the porch, carving their pumpkins, drinking the hot chocolate his mother had made. He never had a fancy, expensive store bought costume like the other kids, but he much preferred his homemade costumes his mother spent weeks making anyways. Halloween was, by far, his favorite holiday of the year.

So, when Clark was sat down by his mother and told he couldn’t go trick or treating anymore, he didn’t take it sitting down.

Literally.

“But why not?” He cried, shooting up from the couch so fast his mother startled next to him. He couldn’t understand why she would thrust this upon him so suddenly, especially three days before Halloween.

“Clark,” she said firmly, “You’re turning seventeen in a few months. You really need to go out and have fun with your friends instead of spending Halloween by yourself.”

“I don’t spend Halloween alone. I’m with you and Pa.”

“I know honey,” his mother said, and she looked like she was actually regretting talking to him about this, “but wouldn’t you rather go out with your friends?”

_Well, it was kind of hard to hang out with friends if you don’t have any._

“You know me mom. I don’t have,” Clark fidgeted with a loose string on his sweater, “A lot of... friends.” Now that he thought about it, maybe he didn’t have any friends because he still wore the sweaters his mom made him.

“Well, what about that party Lana is having that night? Wouldn’t you want to go hang out with her? She’s a nice girl.”

Not really. They had only been broken up for a few months, and even though they were good friends, it was still awkward. And she had kind of changed. It’s not bad or good, just different.

“Okay, I’ll go to Lana’s party this year. But I want to go trick or treating next year. It’s my last year before I go to college, and I want to spend it with you guys.”

His mother’s smile was blinding. “Okay. I’m really so excited for you honey.”

Clark really couldn’t say the same.

  
~~~~~

  
Bruce, on the other hand, couldn’t see why people made such a big deal about Halloween. Why waste money on some silly costume just to wear it for one night so you can beg for candy from some stranger that could very well kidnap you right off their porch? Bruce didn’t get all the fuss about it. Bruce spent Halloween in his room, watching horror movies and stuffing his face with popcorn. Alfred would knock on the door occasionally to check on him, but that was basically all the human contact he had all night. Halloween was, by far, his least favorite holiday of the year.

So when Alfred said that he needed to go outside and be social for Halloween ‘for once in his life,’ he laughed so hard he about fell out of his chair.

“Okay Alfred,” he said sarcastically, still recovering from his outburst, “I’ll go be social. And while I’m at it, I’ll make a few friends too. And then I’ll develop some healthy coping mechanisms.”

“Master Bruce,” Alfred started irritably, “if I may, and I can, you have been alone for almost every holiday for the past nine years. You’ll be staying with the Hansen’s this fall so you can go and be social with kids your age. Lord knows all the kids your age here are either drug dealers or crack heads,” Alfred murmured, studying a stain on the window and briskly wiping it off with a cloth from his pocket.

“The Hansen’s? Those people who came to the gala a couple months ago?” Bruce looked back down at his book. “I have work here to do. I’m so close to finishing the development of the stealth suit. And they were nice and all, but you can’t really trust anyone nowadays Alfred. Care to reconsider?”

“Pack your things Master Bruce.”

“I’m bringing the suit with me.”

 

~~~~~

 

Clark considered Lana to be one of his closest friends.

So did all of Smallville High School, unfortunately.

So when he arrived and Lana practically had a whole mob around her, he had sunk into the corner, hunched in on himself and drank his punch.

Well, he hoped it was punch.

He felt really out of place here. Everyone else was dressed in considerably ‘revealing’ costumes, including Lana, and here he was, dressed as a modest scarecrow. Someone bumped into him and he was pushed so far back into the wall he was surprised he didn’t go straight through it.

He had been in the corner for about thirty minutes, and he was actually starting to comfortable, when a guy about his age marched up to him, opened his mouth like he was going to speak, and then promptly passed out, slumping on to his shoulder.

Well.

“Hey man, are you okay?” Clark asked, awkwardly poking his shoulder. He was oddly dressed for a costume party, only wearing an expensive looking black suit. Maybe he was James Bond or something.

He didn’t get a reply other than some nonsense mumbled into his shoulder, and Clark was smart enough to draw his own conclusion: he was blackout drunk.

“Hey, come on, let’s get you home.” It was better than staying here just to sulk in the corner. And this guy felt important, and Clark couldn’t place why and didn’t really want to investigate. “Where do you live?”

“Mmmm.”

Okay, no address. That would’ve probably helped. “Okay, hold on, I got you.” He slung his arm over the mans shoulder and practically dragged him to the stairs. If he couldn’t get him home, he’d at least get him somewhere where he won’t get hit by a car or something. He spared one final glance at Lana, still preoccupied, and carried the man upstairs.

~~~~~

Lana’s house wasn’t exactly a mansion, but it was big enough that it had two considerably sized guest bedrooms. That’s where he was heading. He had stayed there, on occasion, when it was just too late to drive thirty minutes back home, so he knew his way around. Clark had almost dropped the poor guy draped over him when he had run from the scene in the first guest bedroom, and when he finally got to the second bedroom, his shoulders were aching from the man’s weight on him. And that was saying something.

He carefully placed him on the bed, cradling his head as he laid him down on the pillows. Despite his gentleness, the man still flopped on the bed in a position that must’ve been painful. “Okay, um,” he started, tucking him under the sheets. He didn’t exactly know what to do next. He had never been drunk before, wasn’t even sure if he could get drunk, but he could remember tending to Lana when she was. Thankfully, this guy didn’t throw up as much as her. He didn’t get that stain out of his shirt for months.

“I’m gonna go get you some water. Just, um, stay here.”

He turned to leave, but a hand wrapped around his wrist so tightly it kept him in place. “Don’t leave.”

“I’m gonna be right back,” Clark said, but it sounded more like pleading.

“Stay,” he mumbled into the pillow. The grip on his wrist didn’t loosen. If anything, it got tighter. Clark looked down at his watch. He wasn’t expected to be home until twelve, and it was only eleven. He could stay for thirty minutes while this guy fell asleep, and then walk home.

“Okay,” he said simply.

The man didn’t let go of Clark until he had laid down on the bed next to him, but as soon as he had gotten comfortable, the man slung an arm over his chest to make sure he didn’t leave. He mumbled something intelligible, and then closed his eyes, his thick eyelashes fanning out over his cheeks.

Clark laid his head down on the pillow beside him and closed his eyes. _Thirty minutes, and then I’ll wake up._

He drifted off to sleep with that in mind.

***

Clark awoke to the sounds of birds chirping, light spilling from the window on the far wall.

Okay, this was not his bedroom.

Clark took in his surroundings, still laying down. Okay, it was Lana’s House. Had he slept here after the party.

His first thought was, _crap, I missed my curfew. Ma is going to be so worried._

Which was quickly followed up by, _who is this guy laying next to me in bed._

Clark stared at him and his memories from last night came flooding back, and he sighed in relief. He didn’t sleep with him. The sheets rustled and the man rolled over in his sleep, revealing his face. He wasn’t bad looking, but Clark would prefer his first time not be a one night stand. He was really attractive though. Clark was studying him, and of course, this was when the man’s eyes decided to flutter open.

“Hey,” Clark said dumbly.

“Hi.” The man smiled and ran a finger up his chest. His eyes were mischievous, and Clark’s stomach practically backflipped. “I didn’t do half bad last night.”

Clark felt his cheeks heat up.

“Um, you were drunk and I-I brought you up here and-“ the other man raised an eyebrow and Clark about fell off the bed. “W-we didn’t sleep together!”

Clark cringed. That didn’t come out as smooth as he thought it was. Nothing ever did.

“I don’t think I’d minded if we did,” the man murmured, eyes taking over Clark appreciatively.

“Okay well-“ Clark said, jumping out of the bed as if it was on fire, “Do you live around here?”

“That’s a little straight forward.” Clark could practically hear the smile in his voice. “No, I don’t. I have a car in the front.”

“Do you know the way out?”

“No, afraid I don’t,” the man said, sitting up in the bed, his suit now crinkled. “Mind showing me.....?”

“Clark.”

“Bruce.”

~~~

  
“So, you coming?”

“What?” Clark looked up from studying his shoes, which suddenly seemed very interesting.

Bruce motioned his head towards the car. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

“I can’t believe you still have your keys from last night,” Clark laughed. “No, it’s fine. I don’t live far from here. I can just walk.”

Bruce frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. “You took care of me even thought you didn’t know me. Just get in the car.”

Clark didn’t even think twice. “Okay.”

 

When they pulled up to Clark’s house, his mother was waiting on the porch, and her face lit up when she saw him wave out the window.

Clark turned to Bruce, who’s face was oddly serious. “Well, thanks for the ride. Um-“

Clark pulled on the handle, but it didn’t budge. He tried again, harder this time, and the handle creaked. Clark drew back quickly. Shit. Super strength. Right. “Um, can you unlock the door?”

Bruce didn’t move until he did, and when he did it was to trap Clark against the door with his right arm. Clark crowded against the door and held his breath when his nose nudged against his jawline. He dipped his down, his breath warm in his neck, and Clark technically didn’t need to breath but he felt as though he was hyperventilating. Clark felt a click from behind him and then the door was opening and Bruce was pulling back, a smirk on his face. “Call me.” Bruce slipped a paper into his hand, and then Clark was ushered out of the car and Bruce was speeding off. The cloud dust he left behind would almost be comical if Clark still wasn’t so dazed.

His mother appeared next to him, looking confused but with a smile on her face nonetheless. “Who was that?”

Clark smiled down at the name on the now crumpled up piece of paper in his hand. “Bruce Wayne.”

 

~~~~~

**10 years later~** (courtesy of my laziness)

Clark touched down next to Bruce perched on a gargoyle, and Bruce glanced over and stiffened. “What the hell are you supposed to be?”

“You can’t tell?”

Bruce huffed out a laugh and turned to look at him. “He’s not even a superhero,” he said as Clark sat down on the ledge next to him.

“He doesn’t think he is. The whole world thinks he’s an absolute menace too.” Bruce scoffed. “But I think he’s wonderful.”

Clark draped an arm over his shoulder, and Bruce leaned his head on his shoulder, watching Metropolis from across the bay.

“Just so you know, Bruce Wayne wouldn’t be caught dead in that suit,” Bruce said, pulling at the cheap material of Clark’s suit jacket.

“Well, I tried.”

“You should’ve gone with a better hero. Try harder next time,” Bruce jested, pulling a pair of tacky, black, thick rimmed glasses out of his utility belt and slipping them on over his cowl. Clark stares at him for a moment, dumbfounded, and then burst out laughing so loud Bruce was surprised the civilians walking thirty stories down couldn’t hear him. Maybe they could.

“Okay, okay, you win, you win,” Clark huffed jokingly. “I’ll get you next year.”  
Clark slid the glasses off of Bruce’s face and tucked them away on his pocket. “Maybe stick to being Bruce Wayne,” Clark murmured, burying his face in his shoulder, wrapping his arms around him.

Bruce smiled. “Never change, Clark Kent.”

  
“Happy Halloween, Bruce.”

“Happy Halloween Clark.”

 

 


End file.
